Under His Skin (9 page)

The pixie’s voice came from a spot right next to his ear and Brec’s heart skipped a startled beat. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts on Ana’s duplicitous nature he hadn’t even felt the pixie land on his shoulder. He tilted his head toward the voice, but didn’t take his eyes off the naked woman on the bed. She wasn’t looking at the pixie, but the slight twitch in the muscles around her eyes betrayed the effort it took her to keep her attention on Brec’s face. She wanted to focus on the pixie, but apparently she wasn’t quite ready to give up on the chance that she could manipulate him again. He narrowed his eyes, his brain whirling with different ways to show her just who she was toying with.

The emotions that had battered him about all day until his soul was bruised from the force of it all echoed in his mind. He remembered the body-seizing shock when he’d opened the chest to find his skin gone, the horror when it had dawned on him what that meant, and the drowning pain he’d felt when he had to watch his brother return to the waves without him.

It was a day he wanted to forget, but knew he never could. Never in a million years could he ever forget what it had been like to be human—really human—for nearly a full day. His jaw ached and he realized he was clenching his teeth, glaring at the woman who had put him through that nightmare.

“You’ve done this to others?”

He let his voice grow deeper with the severity of his words. Using every inch of his six foot seven frame, he towered over her. Ana’s mask of vulnerability flickered, real concern and fear sparking briefly in her eyes.

“Brec, I—”

He squeezed her arm until he felt her bones shift under the pressure. She sucked in a breath, real pain flaring on her face.

“Try to manipulate me again,” Brec said softly, “And I will make you very
very
sorry.”

She stared at him and he could see her gauging his words, trying to decide if he was serious. Indignation added heat to his anger. He’d told her in Mrs. Downing’s shop that he was a doctor. Was she so certain that he wouldn’t hurt her? So certain that a healer couldn’t be a warrior as well—couldn’t be a force to be reckoned with?

Rage burned bright inside him and he snarled at her. “You humans and your arrogance,” he hissed. “You think you can steal that which is most important to us and not suffer any consequences. You don’t know what it’s like to suddenly find that the thing that makes your life possible—the thing that makes your life worth
living—
is gone and can never be replaced. Tell me how many skins you’ve stolen? How many lives have you ruined?”

Ana stared at him, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out.
Her eyes glistened with what had to be fake tears and he braced himself against reacting to her phony emotions. She wouldn’t fool him again.

The muscle in her jaw twitched and she ripped her wrist out of his grasp. He let her go, not trusting himself not to do more damage than he intended. Her violent motion rocked her body and the gentle sway of her naked breasts drew his eyes. For a split second, he stared at her the hardened peaks of her nipples, puckered by the cold air in the bedroom. His blood grew warmer swirling through his veins on a downward spiral. He jerked his attention back to her face, fiercely denying the attraction he felt for her. He would not have those feelings for a skin thief.

“You don’t know me and you don’t know my life,” she said slowly, anger and fear weaving her voice into a rough patchwork of emotions. “You have your skin back. Can you really tell me that there’s anything on this planet you’d rather do right now then throw that skin over your body and let it change you into the creature you’re truly meant to be?”

Images of his seal form leapt into his mind at her words. He could already feel the transformation, could already feel his human body being enveloped in the soft fur of his true form. He wouldn’t be cold. He wouldn’t be standing here, staring at a woman whose naked body kept tugging at his thoughts even as her crimes chilled him to the bone. He would be free.

Temptation trailed warm fingertips down his spine and his skin seemed to grow heavier where it lay over his shoulder. Uncertainty seized him. He was torn between what he wanted to do and what he knew he had to do.

“You’ve got your skin,” Ana pressed, her voice low and seductive. “Put it on. Leave the misery behind you and go back to the loving arms of the sea—your only true mistress.”

The sea.
Just the sound of that word filled his ears with rushing waves and made his body ache for the feel of twisting currents and the taste of salty air. Yearning squeezed his heart. He raised his hand to his skin, feeling its thick soft folds. He had what he came for. Didn’t he?

“She’s manipulating you like she’s manipulated others,” the pixie hissed into his ear. “Think of the others who are still out there.
The ones who are still crying and searching for their skins.
Will you let them stay trapped in human form because of a pretty face and a clever tongue?”

Brec
frowned,
his warm thoughts of returning to the sea halted by the cold horror the pixie’s words inspired. He was right. Ana hadn’t denied the claim, she must be guilty. He stared at her, speechless with dismay as he pictured the others out there, miserable as he had been earlier. How long had they wandered like that?

“How many?”

Ana frowned.
“What?”

“How many skins do you have?”

He stepped toward her, grabbing her arm again as his empathy for the other victims fanned his rage. A sense of urgency screamed at him to help them, to save them from the torture that had nearly killed him after only a few hours. “Tell me!”

She winced, but he didn’t ease his grip. She’d manipulated him
once,
it wasn’t going to happen again. When he tightened his hold on her arm even further, he saw her jaw flex as if she were clenching her teeth. He needed to push her a little further, to get her to give up on playing the victim so they could end this charade and he could make her tell him what he needed to know.

“This body may be human, but don’t think it can’t rip your arm out of the socket if I choose to do so.” He made his voice sound as threatening as he could,
wanting
her to know he was serious. Brec wasn’t a violent man, but there were some things worth drawing blood for. Stealing skins was one of them. Holding the pain he’d felt only hours ago close to his
chest,
he tightened his grip even further.

“It’s none of your concern,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Her tone betrayed her physical pain. Part of him knew he should keep pushing, should break a bone if necessary. It was frightening how convincingly she’d played a victim only to turn around and show this new scary side. The way her face continued to hold her anger even under threat of physical violence made him realize that she was not what she had first seemed to be. He would have to go further than he was willing to go if he wanted to physically force her to talk.

He released her, letting her throw herself back on the bed. He hoped she would cower, or seem at least a little frightened. Anything to make him think that he could get her to confess without doing something that would keep him awake at night. The thought of using violence against a woman turned his stomach. Being a warrior would be one thing, but a six foot seven man brutalizing a woman was unacceptable.

His prayer went unanswered as Ana stared at him without a trace of her earlier fear. She leaned against the headboard, curling her long legs up to cover her nudity as she glared at him. She may as well have been an ice queen surveying a problematic peasant. There was no guilt on her face, no vulnerability. All the tears had dried and apparently, so had her remorse. He had misjudged her—badly.

“This is your chance, Brec,” the pixie whispered. “You want your brother to see that you have what it takes to be a warrior? Show him. Look at her, listen to the lack of sympathy in her voice. She’s a monster and she has to be stopped. You can make her tell you where those skins are. You can end the others’ suffering.” The pixie put both hands on his ear and leaned in until gooseflesh erupted onto Brec’s arm. “Don’t let her act fool you.”

Shame that he’d been tricked by a pretty face fueled his own anger. She wouldn’t fool him again. As much as he hated the thought of using force, he wasn’t leaving this cabin until he learned the truth about the missing skins. If there were other creatures out there living a miserable shadow of their previous existence, he was going to do something about it. He narrowed his eyes. No matter what he had to
do.

Turning on his heel, Brec stalked to the corner of the room and laid his fur on the antique rocking chair beside the door. Putting it down took more effort than he wanted to admit. His soul cried out in pain, fighting to keep the fur against his skin for fear that if he walked away it would disappear before he returned. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and blew it out his mouth. He wasn’t leaving it. It wasn’t going anywhere.

He turned around, facing the bed and the ice empress reclining on it. She sat there, still naked, without making any attempt to retrieve clothing or a blanket. Her graceful body was all long legs and smooth lines. She had clearly toned muscles as if she’d been an athlete once, but the layer of cushion that lay over it told him that whatever she’d done to get that muscle was something she hadn’t done for some time. She looked soft and he gritted his teeth against the thought of what that flesh would feel like under his fingertips. What it would be like to grip her hips in his hands—

Oh,
Manannan
help me.

His gaze wandered to her breasts, perfect handfuls of soft flesh topped by pale pink nipples that begged for his attention. Desire crackled down his spine like a current of electricity and his blood pounded in his ears. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a naked woman. Though he remembered how fun it could be . . .

What the fuck am I thinking?

Brec clenched his teeth and forced his mind away from its traitorously lecherous path. Her claim to have stolen his skin to lure him to the marriage bed may have piqued his interest for a second earlier, but he knew her true colors now. She was a cruel person who thought nothing of stealing that which made life worth living for her victims. If it had been up to her, he would still be wandering around the small town only a few miles away, turning blue from the cold without his seal-skin to keep him warm.

With that thought burning like a stick of dynamite in his mind, Brec strode to the bed. Her eyes widened and she scrambled to get away, but she was too late. He grabbed her wrist and jerked it back to the bedpost, binding it tightly to the smooth column of dark wood. She shrieked as he tightened the bond, making certain she couldn’t wiggle out of it.

“What are you doing?” she screamed. “You can’t keep me tied up in my own home forever!”

He ignored her, repeating the process with her legs. When he was done, she
lie
there glaring at him. His heart beat faster as he saw a wish for his death in her eyes.

“Just how long to you think you’ll be able to keep me tied up?” she hissed.

He shrugged, trying to appear unaffected by the entire situation—as if he held people prisoner all the time. “I’d wager I could keep you like this for a day or so.” He retrieved the knife where he’d placed it next to his skin. It was the knife he used for healing rituals and he kept it razor sharp for those dire circumstances when cuts needed to be made in flesh and he wanted to assure as little scarring as possible. Still, it looked like a wicked blade and it had the desired effect on its mark. The look of fear that fluttered through her eyes when he held it up gave him a small spurt of satisfaction. “After that, we’ll just have to get more creative,” he added softly.

There was a time when
Ana’d
had the grace and self-control of a fox. She had waited and she had planned, and she had almost always got what she wanted. It was a primal instinct that said those who snap their jaws and run drooling after their prey had to work a lot harder than those who knew how to smile and wait quietly until the prey turned its back.

Two years of being human had obviously changed things.

Ana cursed herself for her temper and her complete lack of self-control. Her wrists burned from where she’d given in to a childish tantrum, yanking on her bonds again and again in a wild attempt to escape. All she’d succeeded in doing was tightening the horrid ropes. If she didn’t hold still now she’d cut off
the her
circulation completely.

Emotions swam through her head like a sea of sharks just before a feeding frenzy.
Anger over the pixie’s betrayal, hatred for the selkie holding her prisoner, pain from the rope burns in her flesh, and frustration over her abysmal handling of the situation.
The emotions sped her breathing until her chest ached. She wanted to scream, just to ease the pressure.